


In the Dark (I Found My Sight)

by docboredom



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Existential Crisis, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Smooching, When I said subtle shipping I meant it’s barely there, god i hate tagging shit on ao3, implied established relationship, tw: minor suicidal thoughts mentioned in passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23150332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docboredom/pseuds/docboredom
Summary: “Is this better?” His voice is a mumble-murmur-drawl when it reaches him again sometime later, fingers thickly jabbing at his wrist, sleep heavy and half blind. “Being someone else?”No. It’s not. It’s why he hates being here. Second skinned and lying through his teeth. Sung makes an apologetic noise, understanding immediately. “Sorry, stupid question.”“Not the first and not the last.” Meouch has to laugh, getting him a bite pressed into his skin, not so much of a nip as the impression of teeth marks already fading fast. “Asshole.”
Relationships: Commander Meouch/Doctor Sung (TWRP)
Kudos: 11





	In the Dark (I Found My Sight)

Everything tastes like shit here.

Especially the cigarettes.

They’re from some too small, dying breed gas station with centuries worth of sand built up between the floorboards; tracked in by long sighing, borderline elderly and people like them. Young, fleeting, new age gods. Here today, gone tomorrow, pausing for the bare necessities only to tear off again. Outsiders, their eyes seemed to scream as they walked in with their niche band tees and cleaned up high tops. Out of towners, said the lines bracketing their mouths.

By definition, as decreed by Merriam Webster, foreigners.

Even in human skin… aliens.

Maybe, he has to think, it isn’t so much that it tastes like shit as it does old dust. What waiting ought to taste like. Stale and drying out. Dissolving.

He breathes it in and holds it with his strange and unfamiliar human mouth, watching the sky bend it’s own spine until he has to finally exhale smokily.

“Fuck. You’re loud.” Sung’s voice is sleepy as it comes up to his shoulder. He’s surprisingly pale as he walks onto the balcony, but that might just be the moonlight. The empath crinkles his nose then, hands coming up to rub at his eye. 

Meouch smirks. Chuffs a laugh. Inhales again. “Yeah?” He has to ask, kind of not giving a fuck.

“And it’s late.” Sung tells him.

No shit, Meouch thinks, but only says “so?”

He moves the cigarette to the other side of his mouth and realizes that he kind of wants to choke. Not in the rope and chair kind of way, and not with hands around his throat. Just a catch of his breath. A momentary gulping. 

A reminder of reality.

Sung’s face is pressed against his arm in an instant, mouth wet, slow breathing. “Fucker.” Meouch growls. Even the smoke spilling across Sung’s face isn’t enough to wake him up though, only making him shake his head slowly, start snoring. “You can’t be serious.” He’s so impossible. So small. How can so much energy and love fit inside? “I’m gonna leave you out here.”

“No you’re not.” Sung mumbles back happily, drunk off his dreaming. “You’d  _ never. _ ”

He’s right, the asshole.

“Is this better?” His voice is a mumble-murmur-drawl when it reaches him again sometime later, fingers thickly jabbing at his wrist, sleep heavy and half blind. “Being someone else?”

No. It’s _ not. _ It’s why he hates being here. Second skinned and lying through his teeth. Sung makes an apologetic noise, understanding immediately, core firefly low. “Sorry, stupid question.”

“Not the first and not the last.” Meouch has to laugh, getting him a bite pressed into his skin, not so much of a nip as the impression of teeth marks already fading fast. “Asshole.” 

“Mean.” Sung’s really getting needy now despite his huffing. Arms circling around his waist, exhaling deeply, voice curling its way into a whine. “Come back to bed.”

“Soon.” He lets his fingers trail through Sung’s sleep tousled hair. Coming back meant coming inside. Meant listening to the AC unit rattle-click-sigh. Meant hearing the way Phobos sang himself to sleep with long forgotten Lepid songs. Meant watching the hulking shadow of Havve’s form, charging through the night…

Meant not sleeping. Not this night, at least.

“Soon.” He says again. It’s not a promise and it’s not a lie. It’s just a word floating on the wind, a reassurance for the both of them. “You can, you know. It’s not like you can’t without me.”

“Mmm.” Sung’s a child, petulant. It makes Meouch laugh despite himself. “You don’t know that.”

“Pretty sure I saw it happen last week. Ohio. You were in the back seat, lashes heavy-”

“Fuck off.”

“ _ Snoring _ .”

He startles awake, if only for a moment. “I don’t snore, Meouch!”

Meouch throws his smile skyward, realizing there’s no way to actually hide it, feeling the most himself he has since he slipped this thing on. “Okay now  _ that’s _ a load of bullshit, sweet heart.”

He half pivots without any kind of warning, collecting Sung against him, causing the other man to make a pleased sound and burrow close despite his earlier fussings. He tries to comb at a mane that isn’t there once he’s settled in, hidden under layers of weird fucky space technology. “Gotta wait for that, bud.”

“Mrmrghhghmmmf.”

“You’re the one who wanted to tour here!”

He blows a raspberry. Shrugs.

“Sung.”

It’s the empath’s turn to smile up at the stars. “Meouch.” He sighs and it’s the sweetest thing imaginable. He has to kiss him then. His mouth to the other’s mans, lips brushing quietly. It’s different like this, when he’s human. A more plausible slotting, logical symmetry. “That wasn’t an invitation.” Sung tells him. Still, he’s smiling; still, he’s breathtaking; still, he’s his everything.

“You loved it.” Meouch tells him as he lowers his head, kissing him until he’s lost the taste of smoke.

Now his world possibility. Like wonder.   


Like endless stardust.

**Author's Note:**

> vent writing vent writing vent writing yay
> 
> title from mount eeries "wooly mammoths mighty absence"


End file.
